


Caught

by IReadAndWriteSometimes



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:44:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19192081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IReadAndWriteSometimes/pseuds/IReadAndWriteSometimes
Summary: Andy isn't the only one who likes to stare.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. Just slowly transferring this story from ffnet for those who've not read it there. :)

So, we're in agreement," Andy was saying as they sat side by side on the couch going through house listings on Sharon's laptop. "Nothing too big, but definitely with a backyard. And another spare room or two wouldn't hurt." He flashed her a grin while looking pointedly in the direction of Rusty's bedroom. "And definitely another bathroom."

She smiled, nodding, but wasn't allowed a word in, for he grabbed the laptop off her lap and started scrolling with intent. When he found what he was looking for, he tilted the screen back to her, and said, "Take a look at this one then." He waved his hand at the pictures with a flourish, and started talking her ear off with such an attention to detail that she suddenly realized he hadn't rushed into this decision the way she worried he might have. In fact, he must have been eyeing this particular listing long before they even sat down to discuss what each of them were looking for in a house.

"Rusty'd have double the space for himself here," was one of his very first arguments, and her heart both swelled and constricted at his opening choice. He knew how important it was for her that Rusty had a place in any life they would start together, and perhaps that was one of the reasons why it had taken so long for him to bring any of this up. He wanted to preempt any of her possible reticence by making it absolutely clear that her adopted son was always going to be a part of their future.

A slight pang of guilt went through her, and as she mulled that over she missed a couple of other of Andy's arguments until his teasing words, "That backyard's big enough to accommodate every whim of your sense of occasion," cut through her musings and she giggled.

The elated smile her reaction instantly drew from him had her eyes drifting from the screen to his profile as he returned his focus on yet another image he felt needed additional selling. As he continued to talk, every now and then she only hummed in response, distracted.

He looked so very excited, nearly vibrating with joy at the prospect of ever sharing anything even remotely similar to the house currently displayed. His shoulders drew together every other sentence, and he waved his hands enthusiastically whenever he tried to paint a particularly vivid picture for her, and there were crinkles at the corners of his eyes whenever some imagined scenario curled his lips into one of those lopsided smiles of his that she loved so much.

The word grandchildren, or more precisely 'their' grandchildren caught her attention next, although, if asked, she would have no clue what exactly he said about them, but a delicious kind of feeling spread inside her chest at the idea of one day being grandparents to not just Nicole's two boys, and having them fill their home with joy and laughter, and maybe add a few more grey hairs on their heads whenever they inevitably did something that would most likely drive them insane.

He looked up at her, the slight frown suddenly on his face confusing her, until she caught the words 'you', 'pool', and 'not giving up on that' before another slightly smug smile spread across his features, and she reflexively smiled back, barely even hearing what else he was saying.

Funny, she thought to herself, that she would find herself here. Dreaming up a future with a man that she used to, on good days, want to throttle. Oh, he could still be as infuriating as ever, these days he sometimes actually pestered her on purpose just for the fun of it, but now that knack of his had become endearing to her in a way she couldn't quite describe with words.

All she could do was smile, no doubt dopily, thanking her lucky stars for bringing them together, whether he worried her, or made her smile, drove her up a wall with his particular brand of insanity, or made love to her. She felt heat rising to her cheeks as she realized she definitely didn't mind that he was easy on the eyes as well.

Yes, she still couldn't quite believe she had actually agreed to this, to merging their lives like this, but there was no doubt in her mind that he wanted this, that he had thought this through, and that she wanted this as well. He was clearly embellishing all the little perks of their fully living together, but there was an absolute kind of certainty in the way he spoke, that she trusted him completely, and she found herself torn between wanting to kiss his rambling mouth shut, because, no, she needed no more convincing, and between wanting to keep on listening (a bit more attentively, of course) to his absolute faith in their happy future together, because, yes, it did sound absolutely blissful.

"Sharon?"

Her eyes snapped up to his, and she felt the flush in her cheeks deepen as she realized she'd been staring at his lips. When her hand had reached the back of his neck and her fingers started playing with the hairs on his nape, she couldn't say.

"Huh?" she mumbled stupidly.

"What do you think?" he asked, pointing at the laptop, but eyeing her a bit strangely.

Cursing herself for not listening, she hoped she guessed correctly what he meant by that, and said, "I think it's wonderful."

He frowned. "Yeah," he said slowly, and raised a bit in his seat to look at her more seriously. "But I was asking," he spoke slower still, "if you were up to taking a look at this house in person?"

"Oh," she let out before she could stop herself.

"Were you even listening to me? Look," he straightened completely now, even moving the laptop down onto the couch to his far right, "if you still need to think about it…" He shrugged, and Sharon sighed at the disappointment he failed to hide at the prospect of even more waiting. "It's okay. I mean, I-"

She tilted her head to the side, watching him with a faint smile as he scrambled for words. He really was utterly adorable, too. "No, I wasn't really listening," she mumbled, interrupting him.

His earlier frown reappeared. "Then who the hell-" He suddenly snapped his mouth shut before opening it to form a surprised 'o' as it dawned on him what exactly she meant by that. "You weren't really listening, huh?" he asked, but with a knowing lilt to his words.

She rolled her eyes, to hide her embarrassment really, rather than anything else. "You caught me."

He leaned toward her, his face mere inches from hers. "So," he drawled, bobbing his eyebrows up and down, "I'm distracting?"

She clasped his too-smug-for-his-own-good face. "Yes, Mr. Stares-at-My-Legs-Instead-of-Doing-as-I-Say."

"What can I say? They're great legs." She failed to hide her smile, and he grinned goofily, not bothered at all by her being aware of how very distracting he found her to be. "Good to know I have the same effect on you," he told her. "It's cute."

"Cute?" she repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded emphatically, despite her hands clutching his face, and just continued to grin.

She sighed, as if what she was about to do was such a terrible chore to do, then closed the little distance between them and planted her lips over his.

He responded with equal fervor and she laughed when he pushed her down onto the couch until he was lying half on top of her. "So," he started, breaking their kiss, but not proceeding with his question before kissing her once more, "did you like the house at all?"

She grimaced, running a hand apologetically down his cheek. "I really wasn't paying that much attention."

He chuckled. "Seriously?" Obviously, he didn't think she had zoned out quite that much.

"You said something about a pool, and the backyard and grandchildren?" she tried, shrugging.

He chuckled again, but asked seriously, "What were you thinking about then?"

She bit her bottom lip while tracing his own with her thumb. There was no way to quickly sum up her thoughts, but she finally settled on a quiet, "About how much I love you."

His lopsided smile appeared immediately, but he asked, dopily, "Yeah?"

She matched his smile, with a bright one of her. "Yeah," she confirmed mockingly, then clasped his face to quickly kiss him again.

When she dropped her head back down, he kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you, too."

She ran a hand down to his shoulder, until it traced his collar and she could run it down the path his tie would usually be. "Enough to give me another tour of that house?"

He answered quickly. "Enough to build you a house if need be."

She smiled a brilliant smile. "Good," she said, then tapped his shoulder, "now help me up."

He lifted off her, and offered her his hand. "Yes, Ma'am."

She rolled her eyes playfully at his eagerness, then reached over him for the laptop that had miraculously remained on the couch. "So," she said, when she had it perched between them on each of their thigh, "this one has double the space for Rusty…?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Just transferring this from ffnet to here. It's a Shandy oriented bit from Provenza's lovely perspective.

Louie Provenza liked weddings. He married six times, it wasn't that unbelievable a fact about him. However, he was very partial to this wedding, a fact made very much unbelievable seeing as half of the blissful couple was made up of none other than the intrepid Commander Sharon Raydor.

He'd wondered about her a lot lately. Since his partner got thrown off that car, in particularly. How it was that he didn't mind this strange match as much as he had when his idiot of a friend first started calling the woman 'Sharon'. How it was that he agreed to being the best man without even a fleeting thought. How it was that he was truly, genuinely happy for them.

He liked Sharon, that was probably why. He had come to a point where he might as readily step in front of a bullet for her as he would for his partner. Part of him was pissed at himself for allowing her to win him over quite so spectacularly, but dammit, the woman had a heart the size of a planet, so what was truly wondrous was that it had taken him, and really the entire team, so long to realize she wasn't just the cold-hearted bitch that smacked them over their heads with her rulebook and sent them to sensitivity training they thought she was. He'll make sure neither she nor her, he grinned involuntarily, husband ever heard this, but she was pretty damn amazing, her annoying rulebook included.

And Andy… well, Andy came to that conclusion a hell of a lot sooner than him, and he had to give the man credit. It took balls not just to admit to himself how hard he fell for her, but to actually do something about it, too.

Oh, he'd rolled his eyes at his dopey-smiled and puppy-eyed partner so many times even before that fateful first date, it was a wonder they hadn't gotten stuck facing the inside of his skull. He'd been a goner already. That much was obvious. But Provenza worried. In all the years he'd known Andy, never once had he been taken with a woman quite as much as with the then Captain Raydor. It was unnerving.

He'd been skeptical about it, that day Andy told him he'd ask her out on an 'honest-to-God date', but he had no real say in the matter. He could only hope it wouldn't blow up in all their faces. He also figured Sharon would be the more level-headed of the two. If what little reciprocating affection he picked up on from her side wasn't quite enough to turn whatever the hell was going on between them into something more, and if his partner really had gone insane, she'd nip any other ideas of his in the bud by flat out refusing the date, and spelling the lines out for him if necessary. It gave him comfort knowing Sharon wouldn't be leading him on. Whatever happened or didn't happen between them, it would be done directly, straight to the point. If it ended up hurting Andy, at least it would be done quickly, and delicately enough.

But then the damn woman said yes.

But then his damn partner remained tight-lipped about that date.

The kid played obtuse, too.

But then it was suddenly official.

And God dammit. It freakin' worked.

They freakin' work.

And just like that he had two dopey-smiled and puppy-eyed idiots on his hands (not that he'd ever dare tell Sharon she was an idiot of any kind, he was no fool). Oh, she was much less obvious about it. So very discreet in fact, that if he didn't know what to look for, he might have even missed the subtle changes that followed their notifying Taylor. The flirty looks thrown across the murder room when she didn't think or didn't know anyone else was watching. The casual touches that were miles away from inappropriate but that were notably absent prior to their change in relationship status. The held gazes of a private, silent conversation nobody but them heard. His partner's occasional remarks that only she found worthy of a smile. He noticed alright.

They both still remained tight-lipped about it though.

Yes, eventually they were all privy to some hand-holding, or a hug, but it was still all so very on the down low, and his partner just kept falling harder and harder for her, that he started worrying again. He didn't exactly doubt her investment in the relationship. He knew very well by then that Sharon did nothing half-heartedly, and honestly, he was more than fine with not seeing them being all lovey-dovey, and he kind of liked the way Andy loosened her up a little—she was quicker to flash a smile, crack a joke—but he still thought there was this question mark surrounding them. He was aware that Rusty was giving them a hard time in the beginning, but there was a tentativeness that lingered around them and which completely baffled him.

But then his idiot partner got thrown off a car, and the question mark morphed into a flashing neon light, boulevard banner sized exclamation point.

The damn woman was a goner, too.

If there was even a sliver of concern left that his partner could end up getting hurt in this dating-the-boss madness, it was effectively eradicated around the time of Andy's first of many hospital stays. Not at the sight of her watching teary eyed and near trembling as he was wheeled off to surgery that Thanksgiving. No, he finally saw it in the poorly concealed, but absolute terror in her eyes as he ushered her to the elevator and sent her to the hospital Andy had landed in when he cracked her bathroom floor tiles. On second thought… He knew it when they'd returned to the murder room that day without Andy in tow with them, and he found himself lying his ass off to her alarmed self, downplaying the severity of Andy's incident as her questions grew more suspicious and her demeanor more worried.

He'd seen her worried plenty. About Rusty. About Julio. About Amy. About all of them. He'd seen her scared, too. But then Andy had that heart attack, and he saw an altogether different, equally as heart stopping, form of terror in her. It was the first time his concern for her trumped the one for his partner, and he was pretty damn terrified that night for him as well. Later, when they had been reunited, Andy still alive and kicking, he cursed them both. He never signed up for that. For caring so much about them. Certainly not about them… together.

Yet here they were. At their wedding.

Not one bit of him minded.

She stood across the room, in her wedding dress, in a conversation with her sons. In a one-sided conversation with her sons, actually.

Oh, she nodded, and smiled in all the right places, he could tell, but her focus lay on a spot behind her two children, where her freshly anointed husband was twirling around the room with a ballerina.

There was a softness in her look. It wasn't the kind he was used to seeing around Rusty. Or the ballerina and the boy with the ridiculous haircut. Or around victims and tragic perpetrators that walked through their murder room. It was an altogether different sort of softness. One he hadn't seen even during all the hours he'd spent in hospital with her holding vigil over his cardio-challenged partner.

It was love, adoration, infatuation, and maybe even a dash of amusement all rolled into one that he saw in that softness. She practically radiated happiness. Whatever it really was, he decided it looked good on her. It made him happy, too.

He was thoroughly thrown, however, when he noted her upper teeth grazing her bottom lip in a slow, absent-minded yet intent-loaded manner. He grimaced instantly. That look he understood immediately. He shuddered, earning himself a surprised little raise of an eyebrow from his own wife. Studiously ignoring her, he took a sip of his drink to wash away the disturbing image, but as he did, Sharon glanced his way.

Of course, she glanced his way.

The look they shared said it all. He'd caught her, and she sure as hell knew that he did.

But then she innocently shrugged a single shoulder. Her lip curled into a devious little smile he knew better than to pick a fight with, and she wagged a perfect eyebrow at him. The expression clashed rather violently with the angelic white of her dress, taunting him. She didn't care. Could he blame her? Something on his mind, Louie?

He shook his head. Short of yelling there was nothing he could say that she could hear anyway, but he rolled his eyes, very dramatically, then feigned another disgusted shudder before contorting his features into foul displeasure.

Her responding bubble of a laugh carried to him from across the room.

The sound startled her sons, and she was quick to pacify them, but it also caught his partner's attention, and when one of those dopey smiles instantly appeared on his face, Provenza ducked his head and grinned, too.

There were worse admissions in life than this one, he decided as he offered his wife a hand and a dance—his own wedding aside, this one was his favorite yet.

How could it not be?

It involved Sharon Raydor.


	3. Chapter 3

Sharon thought nothing of it when Andy tapped his knuckles against her office doorway and asked if she wanted to grab a bite to eat. After a long day, the rest of the team had already dispersed to their respective homes, and when he offered, unwinding a little in adult conversation before returning home to Rusty sounded like an excellent idea.

They found their way to a little place close to work they liked to have the occasional lunch at as well, and eventually their conversation tittered down to a comfortable silence as they munched on desserts they had for once decided to indulge in.

Quite unexpectedly, Sharon found herself looking at the man in front of her. And by looking, she meant, really looking.

He was handsome. He was an excellent dresser, and in terms of favorite looks it truly was a toss up between his suspenders and three piece suits. That evening, however, she definitely preferred the vest he put on display after draping his jacket over his chair. It may have helped that he had bunched up his sleeves a little, too, and if she didn't blush for covertly checking out his forearms, she most definitely should have for wondering about what lay beneath the material slightly higher up. She would be berating herself for letting her thoughts stray and her eyes linger, if not for the fact that on more than one occasion when he thought she wouldn't notice, she had caught his own gaze linger on parts of her no mere friend's gaze ought to linger on at all.

She liked the ever present sparkle in his chocolate brown orbs when he talked excitedly about something, too, or the glint of mischief in them when he cracked a joke. She liked his lopsided smile and the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle whenever one of them appeared on his face.

She liked how attentive he was, how he didn't just listen, but how he heard and made note of things even she sometimes labeled as insignificant. She liked how passionate he was, even if his temper sometimes got the better of him. She liked how compassionate he was too, and how he found patience even when it was the last thing he tolerated being.

She liked him.

Really liked him.

Mid-swallow, that wasn't the most fortunate of realizations. It caused her to cough, and Andy to in turn worriedly look up from his piece of cake. "You okay?"

She waved him off, downplaying her inner distress, and took a sip of her water to wash down the stubborn piece that nearly choked her. "Wrong pipe," she managed to say jokingly.

He narrowed his eyes briefly, sizing her up, then shrugged, satisfied that she was alright enough. He clearly still considered her behaviour odd, but thankfully, returned his attention to his piece of cake.

She supposed her discovery wasn't an altogether shocking one.

He really was excellent company. There was an implicit understanding between them in light of their respective alcoholism-related pasts, a kind of trust and camaraderie stemming from the line of their work, and much to both of their delight, they shared a sense of humor that had a lovely little twist of snark to it.

A good sense of humor in a man always did manage to draw her attention.

No wonder she liked him.

It just happened to be more than just simple liking.

She liked him in an endearing kind of way. She liked being able to talk to him about everything and nothing. She liked knowing that she could also confide in him anything without the slightest worry of having her trust betrayed. She liked knowing that he felt the same way about her. More importantly, she liked that she could draw comfort from him, that he liked providing her with comfort should she need it. It wasn't something she necessarily needed, but she found it felt rather good to have.

She liked having a confidant in him.

Only confidants were probably not supposed to make her smile like a silly bird at their corny jokes. Only confidants were probably not supposed to smirk at her in that way she could not deny verged on the inappropriate. Only she probably wasn't supposed to smirk right back at that inappropriateness. Only she probably wasn't supposed to flirt with those confidants.

It was another realization that would have had her choking had she not had the good fortune of not being mid-swallow this time.

She has started flirting with him.

She supposed there was always something flirty about them. She supposed they had grown comfortable enough in their friendship for her not to think much of the occasionally loaded remark, or the occasional glance, smile, touch,…

She swallowed air suddenly. Gulped it down so audibly, she was surprised Andy hadn't heard it.

She really, really liked him.

Why else would she be the first to grin at his silly comments and sarcastic remarks? Why else would the occasional glance her way always carry with it a meaning she doubted anyone but them could decipher? Why else would a smile of his almost always draw one onto her own features? Why else would an accidental brush of hands be welcome, a shoulder bump supportive, or a squeeze to her arm comforting?

Why else would her gaze follow him, appreciatively, whenever he walked into a room? Why else would she genuinely look forward to seeing him every day, both inside and outside of work? Why else would she instantly want to reach out to him when he seemed upset? Why else would her heart be thumping loudly in both her chest and her ears at all these realizations?

Why the hell had it taken her this long to wrap her head around this?

Oh, her eager rational brain instantly provided her with a handful of reasons for that.

Her now former marriage.

Rusty.

Stroh.

Work.

Truthfully, when on earth would she find the time to like him?

Several times a month.

Rusty's words echoed through her mind so loudly and so suddenly she felt like she broke out in cold sweat.

Who was she kidding? She wasn't going to dinners with Provenza, now was she? It wasn't his daughter's wedding she'd invited herself to. It wasn't him who took her to the ballet. It wasn't him she invited to fancy galas. It wasn't him she went out to movies with. It wasn't him who lingered at the office after particularly difficult cases. It wasn't him she shared conversations behind closed doors with. It wasn't him who recognized when she wasn't quite yet ready to go home and knew a bite to eat would be the perfect beginning of the end of her day.

No.

It was Andy.

Hotheaded, short-tempered Lieutenant Andrew Flynn.

In another surprising turn of events, the thought made her smile.

In a less fortunate turn of events, the man in question instantly noticed. "What?" The word carried a trace of a laugh, but also suspicion, maybe even a dash of concern.

Under any other circumstance, she would have blushed, furiously, over getting caught in this type of musings. Something about her conclusions, however, left her with an oddly light-hearted feeling. Perhaps it was fueled by the belief that Andy probably returned her sentiment. Perhaps it was just silly excitement over the what-ifs her realizations offered. Perhaps she was just foolish, really. But she smiled, a smile she knew was more coy than bashful, and in what was glaringly a flirtatious gesture, she tucked her hair behind her ear, and in a merry tone, said, "Nothing."

His eyes narrowed for an instant, his eyebrows drawing together as well, and then just as quickly his eyebrows lifted and a small, knowing smile spread across his lips. "Okay."

His smile widened over that word, but if it meant anything, he didn't elaborate. Instead they proceeded to finish off their desserts and ended their evening in much the same way as the numerous evenings spent together before.

Sharon, however, ended up wondering about that smile for a good week afterwards.

Only much later would she find out just how knowing a smile it had been.

That it was in that moment that he had resolved to ask her out on an 'honest-to-God-date', even though it still took him several weeks and some heavy (conscious or not, she couldn't say, although there were definitely butterflies involved long before he finally did ask) hinting on her part to pluck up the courage to actually do it.

It would be an uncharacteristically bashful admission on his part, too.

She would kiss him for it. Because if he hadn't found the courage to ask, she most likely never would have. Those poor butterflies would have starved.

Then she would drag him to bed with her.

To honor his bravery.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter moving over here. I hope you enjoy it. :)

"You know what we haven't done in a while?" Andy asked. He sat on the couch with his socked feet propped up on the coffee table and a hand in Sharon's hair as she lay on her side with her head pillowed in his lap.

They were relaxing for the day, enjoying the rare work-free evening while watching some movie that had been on their watchlist for a good year before they finally found the time to watch it as intended. Regretfully though, Andy found the movie rather boring, and the way Sharon easily drew her attention from the screen to him as she rolled over onto her back to look at him, said she wasn't too engrossed in it either.

"No."

He looked down at her, smiling at the questioning, but slightly melodious lilt to her reply, and continued stroking her hair. "Go to a game," he told her on a shrug.

"Oh." She drew out a long sigh. They'd barely seen a stadium from outside lately, much less from the inside. "You tell the bad guys to take a day off," she playfully ran the back of her fingers down his chest, then flicked her hand in the air, "and let's."

"I'm serious," he suddenly straightened, and briefly she was forced to lift her head while he rearranged her pillow for her, "we could make a whole weekend out of it, maybe have Nicole's boys over, take 'em to the game, you know," he shrugged, "spend some quality time with them before they turn into moody teenage monsters who think all adults are lame?"

She chuckled. "You just want them to do something else besides dance, and," she lifted a hand to his cheek and pressed into it in slight admonishment, "an excuse to eat junk for a change."

"No," he protested quite vehemently, even though she had sounded teasing enough. "Work's just been so," he groaned, momentarily tilting his head back in imagined agony, "crazy, and I think we could both use a break."

He gave her that half a shrug of his and jutted his lower lip out just so, that even if he did have unbecoming agendas she would have been unable to say no to even the silliest of requests. She sighed in quiet pleasure, when as if to further sell his point, he dug his fingers into her scalp precisely the way she liked. Her eyes slipped closed at the welcome sensation, and she instantly agreed. "I know."

"So?" He shifted in his seat yet again, but she remained safely in his lap. "What do you say?" He wiggled his eyebrows enticingly, expecting an answer in the affirmative.

No answer came forth though, for Sharon's mind went unexpectedly blank, and all she could do was stare at him. He looked so utterly childlike and excited at the prospect, as if nothing more would make him happier than spoiling his grandkids with her for a weekend.

She absolutely adored it.

Honestly, as much as everyone found her work persona at odds with her private self, she was equally amazed by his contrasting personalities. At work she would never find him this eager and excited over anything, sans maybe going home after a long day, or giving Provenza a hard time. Determined, and nearly hell bent on getting something done? Oh, yes. But this gentle at work? Her eyelids fluttered closed again when his fingers pressed into her scalp once more, momentarily interrupting her train of thought. He was gentle around kids, and certainly careful and thoughtful with victims and their friends and families, but otherwise, he was intense, quick to anger (although less that in recent years) and he would sooner punch a dirtbag in the face than show him any kind of sympathy, or God forbid, leniency.

She liked that about him. She liked being one of the select few privy to all the sides of him. She liked how excited he got over baseball. She liked how excited he got with his grandkids.

At the end of the day, she could deny him nothing. Or maybe just very little. Certainly not a weekend with their grandchildren and baseball.

Her prolonged silence diminished his confidence slightly and prompted him to offer further arguments, and she should have interrupted him, told him he had her at 'game', but then again, he was rather cute when he tried talking her into things he worried (unnecessarily so, especially when it came to baseball or football, and of course, their families) she might not be as enthusiastic about as he.

It allowed her to (with the slightest tinge of guilt) tune him out. Instead, she fought that little affectionate smile reserved only for him, and simply observed, her mind a million miles away, even as the topic of her musings loomed barely an arm's length above her.

She was truly and thoroughly content. The hand in her hair and his rambling voice certainly helped, but it wasn't just that. It was him being there. It was him wanting to be there. It was him wanting her with him. With his family. With her family. It was him no longer making single plans, and only very few most base of decisions, without her.

It was her wanting all of that equally as much. There was an incredible comfort in knowing he was her partner in the true meaning of the word. It offered her a sense of safety and utmost trust, which she wasn't sure she truly had even during the early, good and happy stages of her first marriage. Perhaps it was age and experience that had tampered the sensation somewhat, because it wasn't as headrush inducing anymore, but maybe it was also age and experience that made the feeling all the more encompassing, more profound, more heartwarming.

She was irrevocably in love, that much was clear, but she was also undisputedly comfortable and serene in his company, and pure infatuation was not the only reason why. It was rather ironic how he offered stability and support in the way her reliance on protocol, rules and laws did for decades before him, when he so very much liked to rebel against those same things every chance he got (of course, still within the realm of legality). He was steadfast, reliable and loyal, just as much as he was hot headed, passionate and stubborn. She had grown used to it, not in a way where she took it all for granted, noone with her scars could, but it had started feeling normal nonetheless.

There was an underlying current of excitement in their relationship as well, even when they were caught up in the routine of domesticity. It was ever present, and exciting all on its own. They had been together for so long now, going on ten years, retirement on their minds even, and it had not abated in the least. Just lying there with her head in his lap was exciting in its own way. Merely talking to him was exciting. The prospect of going out and sharing him with his grandchildren was exciting. More intimate moments were just as exciting. Touching him. Anticipating his reciprocating touch. A look. A hug. A kiss. A night tangled with each other in their bed sheets.

"Sharon?" Andy's question put an end to her distracted thoughts, and she realized she had reached out a hand, running her fingers gently along his jawline.

She kept it there, and simply smiled. "Just get us the tickets," she told him softly, "and I'll make sure we're off work no matter what."

Oh, and there was that one more thing that never failed to weaken her in the knees. His eyebrows lifted in delight, and his lips spread into a lazy, happy half-smile. And then he had to add a touch of smugness. "I knew you couldn't say no to me."

She rubbed a thumb against his cheek, and grinned. If only he knew the extent of that truth. Knowing he wasn't exactly immune to her either sent another rush of excitement through her. "Never."

He grinned back, then leaned down to kiss her. He meant it as a quick, light, 'it's a deal' kind of brush of lips, but on a disagreeing moan, her head lifted to follow when he drew back, and her hand reached the back of his head, pulling him close again. It was an uncomfortable angle for them, him bent like that and her neck strained, but aside from a slightly surprised noise in the back of his throat, Andy made no protest and eagerly complied.

Yes, their kisses were yet to become even fractionally less exciting. A quick peck they took as a quiet everyday reassurance, a casual reminder of their shared affection for one another. Hard, hungry kisses left them light-headed, heavy-breathing, aroused and desperate to all but consume each other. Slow, languid, moan-inducing kisses like now were a combination of the two, not quite as domestic, not quite as desperate, but a perfect little outpour of emotion and promises for more they were in no rush to make good on. Above all, they made Sharon feel cherished, and allowing herself to recognize, experience and accept that feeling again, had taken her nearly three decades to do. More importantly, she had allowed herself to hold on to it without the salt of grain that had marked her last long-term relationship. Perhaps that was why their kisses felt liberating as well—Andy never gave her reason to doubt his intentions, and there was an absolute, maybe still naive, certainty in her that he never would.

When finally her hand slipped out of his hair, and on a sigh she dropped her head back onto her pillow, all the while smiling at him, he asked, sounding genuinely curious, but also quite pleased with himself, "What was that for?" He rubbed his lips together, only a smack missing to show he was enjoying the lingering taste of her.

She sucked in her lips, her teeth momentarily biting into her bottom lip. "Nothing," she said much too innocently.

A low hum that sounded way too knowing for Sharon's liking rumbled in his throat. "Wouldn't have anything to do with you zoning out on me," he pointed a finger at her accusatory, "there for a second?"

Her teeth proceeded to worry just the corner of her bottom lip. Damn him for being so perceptive. But then again, wasn't that another thing that absolutely drew her to him? "I was just thinking," she finally said, with an air of casualness.

"About me?" he asked smugly, lowering his hand to thread his fingers through her hair again.

One of her eyebrows briefly bobbed up and down. "Mhm," she confirmed mysteriously. It took a bit of willpower not to let a smile give away her actual thoughts, but this teasing thing was one more exciting thing she loved about him, about them.

"What about me?" he added, and this time he brushed a thumb across her forehead, getting the few stray strands of her hair out of his way. He sounded less smug now, more curious, and a tad playful.

"A lot of things." A shrug accompanied her answer.

A smirk appeared on his face, a prodding, "Oh, yeah?" on his lips.

Her tone dipped to that nearly sultry note she knew did things to him. "Oh, yeah."

"So..." he narrowed his eyes, his patience for her teasing waning, but he spoke just as teasingly, "you were really just ogling me?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Sharon laughed, throwing her head back as much as that was possible with a pillow and a pair of solid thighs under it. "A little," she admitted, gravely underplaying the reality of it. "And I was also thinking," she took his hand when he pulled it away and pressed her cheek into his palm, "how utterly-"

"Smitten you are with me?" Andy quickly interjected, then barked out a laugh at his own wittiness.

She didn't laugh. She smiled and leveled him with a steady gaze. "Very much so." She was still affected by her earlier musings, and without much thought, more as if having just had the epiphany, she added, sounding rather random, "More than I even know to describe."

His unexpected reaction told her she didn't tell him this often enough, and the sudden shift in mood was practically palpable. Oh, he knew she loved him, that she made sure he heard enough, and their wedding bands alone attested to that, but she wasn't one to linger on sharing with him just how deeply her affection for him ran. That he could just look at her, or flash her a smile, or brush a hand against hers, and a warm, fuzzy feeling would settle contently in her chest. Or that there were times when she would be so overwhelmed by his love for her that it caused blood to rush to her ears and cheeks, and that a torturous, but delicious sort of tingle shot through her, from head to toe. Or that she loved him so much that sometimes she wished they could melt into one another, blend or morph into one creature that was bound together in all imaginable and unimaginable ways. And that the fact that they unfortunately couldn't, try as they both might, caused a physical ache she both wanted to get rid of and couldn't get enough of.

That wasn't to say he didn't know all that, but Andy… he was more prone to dote on her to this degree and to remind her of the depth of his love for her. He always wore his feelings on a sleeve, while she kept hers closer to the vest. It was another thing she loved about him, but also one aspect she often fell short on in their relationship. Not that he ever complained, but his face just then had her making a mental note to put more of an effort into telling him she matched his feelings for her in every possible way.

He was at first rendered mute, his eyes momentarily widening, before his brows lowered, and they returned to their more relaxed shape. He opened his mouth with a soft expression on his face, but when no sound came forth, he smiled instead, that dopey, lopsided smile she thought ought to be illegal, because that did things to her.

Guilty over surprising him quite this much and adding this sudden gravity to their otherwise light banter, she turned her head and kissed the palm of his hand. "You do know that?" she asked, feeling even guiltier for having to ask, and after all this time at that. It was ridiculous how her earlier certainty suddenly, ever so slightly, faltered. "How very much I love you?"

He picked up on her misgivings instantly, his eyebrows instantly flew up, and his ability to speak returned with it. "Yes, absolutely, I know," he assured her with emphasis. "It's just..." he grazed her cheek gently with the back of his hand, and smiled softly, "it's just nice hearing you say it like that." Jokingly, he added, "Makes me feel special."

She sighed at his attempt at humor. Once, years ago, he had told her he had no idea what made her care so much about him, and how he didn't know what he did to deserve her. She thought they were past that particular insecurity of his, but perhaps she had been wrong. "You are special to me. So, so," she kissed his palm again, "special." When he smiled, she returned it, but momentarily averted her gaze and rather lamely said, "Next time you see me," she looked up at him on half an eye roll, "ogling you, that's why, okay?"

He shrugged a single shoulder. "I knew that, too," he quipped.

Add infuriating to the list. He drove her crazy, too, but for some even crazier reason, she adored that as well. "Good," she said, nuzzling briefly into his palm, but still promised herself to show him that more often.

He dropped a kiss to her forehead, then switched gears. "So should I rewind the movie, or," he eyed her smugly, "do you need another fill of," he waved a hand at himself and let the sentence end on that.

Even as she laughed, she sat up so she could snuggle into his side. Neither one of them liked giving up on a movie they started, even if it wasn't quite as captivating as they liked it to be. Waving a hand at the TV, she said, "Please."

He chuckled, but did as told.

If the movie was still too boring to keep her attention, and she instead stole glances at him as if she were a shy teenager on her first date ever… Well, then, it was all part of keeping her earlier promise.

And if he happened to look at the TV unseeing, and with a palpable air of smugness about him…

Well, that just meant she was doing a good job of it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a piece from Emily's point of view.

Emily sipped on her glass of wine, leaning a shoulder against the frame of the open balcony doors, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips.

Commandeering one of the chairs around the coffee table, and judging by the firmly furrowed brow, Andy was in the middle of losing a game of chess against her youngest brother. He on the other hand, was smirking from the corner of the couch.

Her mother was tucked into the opposite corner, ostensibly watching with great amusement the two bickering. In reality though, Emily noticed, her focus lay on Andy, and precisely that was the cause of her own amusement.

She and Ricky had coordinated their schedules for a long weekend off, and had flown down to LA the previous evening. They had originally intended to visit a good three weeks prior, immediately after Andy's heart attack, but their mother had been adamant about their staying put, for there was nothing they could have possibly done to actually help the situation. After a long phone call and several reassurances that Andy, and by extension she would be okay, they heeded their mother's wish and stayed in their respective cities. Nonetheless, those assurances did nothing to assuage Emily's concern.

Compounding her worry was the way her mother had sounded that evening. Not ever, or at least not in recent memory, maybe not even when Stroh had been hanging above Rusty's head, had Emily heard her mother's voice so fearful. Not to say that Sharon had worried less about Rusty. Nothing ever trumped her concern for her children, that was simply fact nobody would even dare dispute. But this seemed an entirely different kind of concern, a kind made all the more disconcerting, because, for the first time in forever, it involved someone other than Sharon's children or immediate family, and Emily found herself quite unsure of how to process that. She would never forget the tremor that had accompanied her mom's goodbye during that particular phone call, and she decided she never wanted to ever hear that sound again.

Truth be told, it wasn't until that evening that Emily truly started contemplating her mother's relationship with this lieutenant of hers. Not even when that blood clot incident had him temporarily move in with her had she given the two proper thought. She had seen the man a handful of times, found him nice, kind and even funny enough, but that was all before her mother revealed her new relationship status. Following that, her first hand knowledge of Andy was limited to a single brief meeting a few months ago when her ballet troupe made a pitstop in LA. She had been able to surmise how very taken they seemed with each other, even as they tried not to be too obvious about it, but other than that, her opinions of him were based on the occasional 'hi' he'd throw in during her and Sharon's Skype sessions, or the reports her brothers sent her way every now and then.

Distance was her problem. New York was entirely too far away for her to make a proper picture of not just the lieutenant himself, but also of her mother  _with_ him. That it was serious, that she knew. After all, this was the first man in her mother's life that had been deemed worthy of introducing to them as an actual—this was a term surmised by Emily and her siblings, for they were yet to hear Sharon say it herself— _boyfriend_. She firmly believed her mother had not lived the life of a nun post her separation from Jack, and that she had simply made sure she and Ricky never crossed paths with the occasional man that may have replaced him, so meeting Andy in this capacity alone spoke volumes about her mother's feelings for him. His moving into the condo spoke to that as well. That tremor from a few weeks ago that still haunted her, even more so.

None of these facts, however, prepared her for the full extent of this relationship.

Put simply, Andy Flynn was completely and utterly in love with her mother. Absolutely smitten.

The first word that came to mind when Emily thought of a description for him was gentleman. He was one in the truest sense of the word. Some of Emily's better dates and boyfriends had gone through the trouble of pulling out her chairs or opening doors for her, but such kind acts quickly faded once any kind of familiarity or routine formed between them. She was well aware of the wooing factor these acts were, she had her own tricks up her sleeve after all, so it wasn't like she ever expected those to persist, but it was an entirely different matter with Andy. The little acts of gallant assistance seemed to have continued since the last time she'd seen him. She was now certain that they were all but ingrained in him, so genuinely kind he seemed in that sense. The way the tiniest spark of happiness, or even pride, would appear in him whenever Sharon accepted his efforts only cemented Emily's belief in the sincerity of his actions.

Besides that, the simple way he looked at her mother was telling. Ordinarily, Emily would have gagged on the sickeningly sweet taste of those looks, but there was this feel about him, about it being completely honest and without selfish agenda, that she could do no more but melt a little over every look he graced her mother with. Briefly, the hurt, little kid in her that missed those happy times when her dad was still around tried to remember whether it was ever like that between her parents. Unfortunately, he had left when she was still so very young, and she couldn't quite answer that question to herself. With a melancholy, sad feeling, part of her longed for those memories, and she lamented the fact that her parents' relationship hadn't lasted long enough for her to become one of those kids who rolled their eyes at their parents being embarrassingly sweet the way Sharon and Andy seemed to be now. Nevertheless, she was glad that her mother had finally found someone special, even if that someone wasn't her biological father, because she couldn't imagine anyone deserving it more than her. Secretly, she started hoping that one day she too might find a guy who looked at her the way Andy looked at her mom.

In a much more startling revelation, for this truly was a new side they were all discovering about Sharon, her mother was equally as smitten with him.

Of course, in true Sharon Raydor fashion, she was far less obvious about it, but Emily saw right through her poor attempts at keeping herself in check. She noticed the little quirks of her lips whenever Andy had a gentlemanly moment. She noticed how she looked at him, the subtle difference in it as opposed to how she regarded her, Ricky or Rusty. She noticed the small, casual, innocent touches, and the way her mother never once objected to his reciprocating them. She noticed how much more often she laughed, how he coaxed those laughs out of her, seemingly with no effort at all. With Andy, Emily realized, her mother projected a new level of calmness, a sort of serenity that she wasn't sure she'd ever seen surround her the way it seemed to now. Most noticeable of all was the little bubble that surrounded the couple at times, impenetrable by anyone, certainly not understood by anyone but the two souls within it. A mere glance shared between them seemed to convey an entire conversation, a nod or tilt of their head another. If it didn't seem so stunningly natural, Emily would call it creepy.

She vaguely remembered a time when she caught her parents in a similar bubble, back when she was a kid and she would look between them clueless about the silent conversation passing between them. Looking at the couple in front of her today, however, she could tell those conversations carried a different tone back then, a kind of tension that lacked the touch of lovingness she was seeing now. She recalled her childlike attempts to somehow alleviate it because it confused her and made her feel uncomfortable. More than once had she tugged on one of her parents' hands, or reached for the fabric of their clothing to snap them out of it. Even today, they had a tendency to slip into that, only these days that tension was loaded with almost outright hostility masked beneath her father's charming exterior and her mother's impenetrable walls of apparent indifference. That transformation saddened her to no end, but she understood how it came to be, knew that her mother had tried her very best to prevent it from happening. Thinking of Jack and Andy's similar pasts, and wary of it no matter how hard she tried not to be, Emily found herself privately praying that this bubble would never morph into something that painful.

As she continued to observe them, she found faith that it wouldn't be the case this time around.

Because really, they seemed perfect together. Ridiculously in sync with one another, too.

It was a thought that drew another smile on her lips, and this one she quickly hid behind another sip of her wine. After all, Ricky could notice her from the kitchen any moment now, and she would never hear the end of it if he realized how sappy she had become over her mother's relationship.

As if summoned by her mere thoughts, he appeared in front of her, a curious eyebrow lifted at her.

"Whatcha looking at?"

She rolled her eyes at his playful tone, but decided to get his input on the couple in the living room. In lieu of a verbal response she quirked her own eyebrow, and with a deliberate tilt of her chin, indicated the woman who seemed to be oblivious to all but one person in the entire room.

"Oh, that," Ricky shrugged, his tone dropping to a more secretive level. He squeezed into the bit of space left between Emily and the opposite side of the doorway. "Told ya they were all," he made a face when Andy chose that particular moment to throw their mother a quick grin as he moved a piece across the chessboard, "lovey dovey."

Emily suppressed a snort. "That's one way to put it."

Ricky shrugged again. "Mom seems happy though," he concluded rather seriously.

"Yeah," Emily said on a pleased sigh, "she does, doesn't she?"

He hummed in the affirmative over a little nod of his head, and then his tone suddenly took on a humorous note. "But how long do you think it'll take her to realize she's staring, huh?"

Emily chuckled quietly, and looked back toward Sharon, who indeed seemed lost in thought, her eyes, however, religiously tracking Andy's movement. With a touch of sadness, she replied, "Rusty said she's been doing that a lot since his heart attack." In fact, her mother had been so shook up and worried sick that she barely let Andy out of her sight at all the first week following his release from hospital.

"Not like that she hasn't," Ricky disagreed, pointing a finger at his mother, whose lip curled into a private smile, even as she ran her teeth over her bottom lip. "You think he's allowed to climb stairs again?" he added suggestively.

"Oh, God," Emily suppressed a groan, "you're disgusting!"

Ricky laughed. "You mean, Mom's disgusting," he corrected smugly.

She joined his laughter. "Hmm, yeah, I guess I do." Pushing off the doorway suddenly, she smirked. "Better make the best of it then."

Ricky only grinned at the way she wagged her eyebrows at him, and then sauntered over to the vacant chair next to her mother.

After gracefully folding into it and placing her glass wine on the coffee table next to her mother's, quietly so as to not disturb the passionate chess duo, she mumbled, "Earth to Mom." When no acknowledgment came, she actually had to lean forward, into her mother's face, and mumble it again.

On a distracted hum, Sharon finally turned her head toward Emily. "Yes, honey?"

"You're staring at the boyfriend, Mom," Emily told her bluntly, casually leaning into the back of her chair. "Thinking," she added, pausing dramatically before feigning a disgusted shudder, "God knows what."

Sharon looked at her strangely for a moment, her thoughts clearly still a mile away, but before Emily could tease her further, she pursed her lips in apparent disdain and smacked her arm. "Oh, grow up."

Emily didn't miss the way she shifted on the armrest though, awkwardly crossing her legs, and being the grown up that she was, she laughed quietly. "I'm just teasing you." She lowered her voice, glancing over at Andy and Rusty who still seemed engrossed in their game, "It's nice seeing you happy, Mom."

Sharon sighed, tilting her head sideways as the expression on her face softened. Her eyes flickered toward Andy, and whether on purpose or not, she smiled again, before returning her attention to Emily. "I'm always happy when you visit."

She threw her mother a bland look. "That's not what I meant."

But her mother continued as if Emily had said nothing at all. "All three of my children under one roof…" She sighed contently, in exaggeration and in obvious teasing. "It's a dream come true."

Emily saw right through her mother's hedging, but she thought it was rather time for them to really talk. They may have flown down to see how Andy was doing, but she knew the last few weeks were equally as trying for her mother. Maybe Sharon wasn't quite yet ready to completely untangle the month's events, but Emily wanted to make herself available for talking about what little she did manage to process by now. Her mother always insisted on communication no matter how reluctant she may have been. Perhaps it was time to return what she now knew was a big favor.

"Mom," it was impossible to keep the exasperation out of her tone, so she used it and let that single word hang between them.

After a beat of silence, her mother finally relented. She took both of their wine glasses between her fingers, causing Andy to briefly look her way, but he remained silent, then offered Emily her free hand. "Follow me," she said as she slipped off the couch and took to her feet.

Surprised to apparently be making headway, but not reluctant, Emily took the proffered hand and let her mother lead her to the dining area. She caught her brother smirking in a way that mocked her, silently teasing, 'Someone's in trouble."

Wary of her mother noticing, Emily stuck her tongue out at him, but he just grinned and made his way over to her vacated seat at the coffee table.

Emily both was and wasn't surprised when, once she was seated at the dining table, Sharon walked to the fridge to fish out a bottle of wine. "Would you like another glass?" she asked, already pulling at the cork.

"No," Emily said slowly, more than a little familiar with her mother's stalling attempts, "I'm good."

Sharon made a little noise of acknowledgement, then filled up her own glass. In silence, Emily watched her mother go about closing the bottle and just leaving it there on the kitchen counter. When she turned around to face her, she was graced with an odd look she couldn't decipher. Her mother even proceeded to savor a sip of the wine, before at long last saying, "I meant what I said, I'm really glad you're here."

"I am, too," Emily answered, a slightly questioning lilt to her words that finally prompted her mother to actually join her at the table.

In a slow deliberate movement, Sharon deposited her glass to the side, then just as deliberately reached for Emily's hand. When she squeezed, Emily found the way her hand was suddenly trapped between her mom's oddly comforting. In fact, until just then she hadn't even realized how very much she had missed her, and the connection felt more than a little welcoming. More so in light of Andy's heart attack and the sobering reminder that her mother was just as mortal as him, even when they liked to think she was anything but. She was unable to give any of her thoughts a voice, for her mom gently asked, "How are you?"

She nearly scoffed. It was a well known tactic to her, the way Sharon would try to shift the conversation to them whenever it became obvious her children had every intention of talking about her instead. Emily indulged her for a moment. "I'm good," she squeezed her mother's hand, then tried to turn the tables on her, "how are  _you_?"

Sharon smiled, then sighed quietly. "I'm good," she parroted back confidently enough, but Emily noticed the way her eyes flickered over to Andy in the living room. She expected her mom to stall some more, maybe even change the topic altogether, but to her utter surprise, she then randomly added, "I think I've finally stopped holding my breath."

Emily's eyebrows rose. Clearly her mother only just then decided to share that tidbit and judging by the way she focused her eyes on her wine glass, she seemed unsure of whether she should have shared anything at all. That was why Emily didn't linger on the admission, but glanced over at Andy, and said, "He's doing okay then, huh?"

"More than okay," Sharon confirmed, a faint smile on her lips. "He's even cleared for desk duty again."

When she didn't sound as relieved as Emily thought she should, she prodded, "And that's a bad thing?"

"Makes me wanna hold my breath again is what it is," Sharon muttered, her tone wry, as if she herself agreed with Emily's private thought. She started running a thumb gently over the top of Emily's hand, and before she could say anything, added in a thick voice, "He really does make me happy, Em."

And just like that it dawned on Emily. The way her mom had been smiling earlier was more nervous than besotted. The way she'd been worrying her lip wasn't because her mind was in the gutter, it was leftover anxiety. When she squirmed, she hadn't been embarrassed, she'd been uncomfortable for doing a poor job of concealing her still present worry. Emily mulled that all over for a moment, focusing on the smooth movement of her mother's thumb over her hand. This was a fear Emily could not simply joke away. It said a lot about its gravity that Sharon had said anything to her about it at all. She knew her mom though, she could figure out something comforting enough to say.

"You just have to have faith, Mom, that-" she paused mid-sentence, because when she lifted her eyes, her mom's attention was back to the topic of their conversation. Did he honestly distract her so easily, is this what Rusty had to tolerate every day? The soft looks, the longing gazes, the—

"Faith that…?" Sharon interrupted her musing, looking at her, having perhaps not been as distracted as Emily thought she was.

But Emily was the one distracted now, amused, too, and she abruptly changed topics. "Is this how," she waved a hand at her mother and Andy back in the living room, then stuttered, laughing nervously, "Is this what…" She finally pulled herself together enough to formulate a full question. "Does your team have to put up with this at work, too?"

When Sharon's brow furrowed, Emily wasn't sure if it was out of genuine confusion, or because she felt properly called out and she was just trying to hide it. Slowly, she asked, "Put up with what?"

"Jesus, Mom, you're like a lovesick teenager." Emily said by way of elaborating. Her disgruntlement she exaggerated by heaving a heavy sigh of exasperation, but in all honesty, she found the situation rather adorable.

Her slightly raised voice drew Andy's attention. Not Rusty's though. He was frowning at the board contemplating his next move. But just Andy's lifting his head and looking at her, drew Sharon's attention back to him again, and when Emily glanced his way and saw how he smiled at her mother, she couldn't suppress the immature urge to roll her eyes at the couple.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me," her mother warned, even as she quirked her eyebrow at Andy.

Whatever the hell that meant, Andy seemed to get it, and he just shrugged in response and went back to the chess game in front of him. It prompted Emily to roll her eyes again, causing her mother to tear her gaze away from her boyfriend in order to narrow her eyes at her daughter instead.

"What?" Emily asked defensively. "You guys are so-"

"What?" Sharon quickly interrupted, a touch of further warning in her voice as she straightened in her seat and finally devoted her full attention to Emily.

Emily knew better than to fall into that trap though. She met her mother's look with a defiantly lifted chin, and she shifted on her spot, mirroring the way her mother was facing her, shooting back, "You didn't answer my question."

And then to her utter surprise, her mother deflated. "I strongly disagree with your definition of 'this', but," she rolled her eyes dramatically, and then grimaced guiltily, "yes, sometimes my," she paused, choosing her words with practiced deliberation, "focus does linger on him."

Shocked into temporary silence, it took Emily a moment to react, but then she promptly burst into laughter. "Oh, I bet Provenza just loves that," she mumbled, having interacted enough times with him, and having heard enough stories about him to know how grouchy he could be.

Sharon laughed, too. "Ah," the sound came out a little too casually, "he's never filed any complaints with me."

As if the deliberate way she said 'me' wasn't enough, her eyes flickered back to the living room, and Emily promptly snorted. "Oh, poor Andy!"

Then she abruptly stopped laughing, when Andy suddenly threw their way, "Worth it though."

She had no clue that he'd been listening to them, but had no time to even wonder for how long, before Sharon merely grinned at Andy, and shrugged a much too innocent looking shoulder at him.

Rusty finally picked up on the fact that something was transpiring between the lovesick duo, and theatrically sighed. "Not this again," he muttered, moving his rook in an exceptionally grumpy manner, and flicking one of Andy's bishops with more force than necessary off the board.

"Hey!" Andy whined, scrambling to catch the figurine before it rolled off the edge of the table. Once he safely placed it next to Rusty's other victims, and he definitely made a show of it, putting a smile on Sharon's face, he aimed a finger at him and muttered, "You keep it up, and I'll give you an actual reason to complain." On the off chance his words weren't clear enough, he underlined them with a suggestive look thrown Sharon's way.

Even as she groaned, Sharon laughed, causing even a helpless Rusty to laugh.

"Little brother," Ricky finally joined in on the conversation, his tone being one of exaggeratedly eager helpfulness, "if you don't wanna be in the middle of this, my advice is: move out."

Both Emily and Andy laughed when Sharon instantly sobered and pinned Ricky with a look. "Funny."

While Ricky nodded in a smug 'I know' manner, Rusty pretended to actually contemplate the idea. "At this rate," he was grinning wickedly, "I just might."

"Hilarious," Sharon muttered sarcastically, extending her look at her youngest now.

Just then, as Ricky and Rusty continued to grin at their mother, Andy announced, "Checkmate." He had made his final move, waved his hand at the board, then smugly relaxed into his seat.

Scandalized, as he scanned the board rather frantically, Rusty exclaimed, "What?!"

Everyone burst out laughing again. "That's what you get, Kid, for being cheeky," Andy quipped, and both Emily and Ricky laughed some more when he winked at Sharon just for good measure. "Maybe," he added, a touch of finality to the word as he slowly rose to his feet, "you should practice on Ricky." Rounding the couch, he added, teasingly, "Since I'm too big of a challenge apparently."

A flabbergasted Rusty had no retort for him as he continued to stare at the board, bewildered, but Ricky seemed eager enough and dragged the entire setup to his end of the table in order to line up his pieces for a new match. As his mother and sister laughed at their antics, he too, poked at Rusty. "Oh, the embarrassment if I kick your ass as well…"

That finally snapped Rusty out of it, and he fixed his brother with a fiery look. "In your dreams, Raydor." With that he proceeded to set up his own side of the board.

Andy took this time to join Sharon and Emily at the dining table, and mumbled a sufficiently surprised, "Don't ask me how I won," as he reached Sharon's chair and leaned against it behind her. While they both giggled, he informed Emily, "He usually wipes the floor with me."

Sharon nodded enthusiastically. "Nine out of ten times."

Andy nodded, too. "It's true," he confirmed disappointedly, but there was no true regret in the words. He genuinely didn't seem to mind.

Emily continued to chuckle, but also took the moment to make note of the way her mother had leaned back the moment Andy reached her. She was just contemplating teasing Andy about it as well, when he leaned down, and abruptly changing the topic, asked, "So what exactly are you two ladies gossiping about?"

The ladies' replies came simultaneously.

Sharon's was, "Nothing."

Emily's was, "You."

"Oh," this seemed to pique Andy's interest, and with a flourish he pulled a chair out for himself, "is that so?"

While Sharon rolled her eyes, Emily nodded emphatically. "Mhm."

"Good things only, I hope," he added, scooting his chair closer to Sharon's to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

Emily had to suppress a grin at the way her mother instantly rested her head on Andy's shoulder. She made a note to tease her about that later as well. "Depends on who you ask," she replied cryptically.

This confused Andy and he suddenly frowned at Sharon. "What did I do now?" he asked defensively, and Emily laughed, wondering how often he actually got into trouble for him to react this way.

When Sharon quickly said, "Nothing," Emily instantly disagreed, her voice trembling with poorly hidden amusement. "Not according to Provenza."

And just like that, Andy turned smug. He wrapped his arm more snugly around Sharon's shoulders, but turned just enough to wag a challenging eyebrow at her. "Caught again, are we, Captain?"

Sharon shot him a scalding glare lesser men might have cowered under, and Emily found herself caught between wanting to laugh yet again or groaning in disbelief. Ordinarily she would have instantly dismissed even the notion of her mother getting distracted by a mere  _guy_ often and obviously enough for others to notice. But in light of the evidence sitting quite literally in front of her, there was no denying it. A little painfully, her heart suddenly constricted as she realized how long it must have been for her mom to finally feel this way; in love to the point of distraction. Privately, she marvelled at it, but for the fun of it she let a groan out anyway, and asked incredulously, "My God, how obvious are you?"

"Obvious enough," Andy told her seriously before he smirked, "to make me feel  _real_ good about myself."

"Okay," Sharon said with sudden finality, when her daughter burst out laughing yet again, "that's enough of that," she told Emily, slowly leaning out of Andy's embrace. "And you," she pinned him with another glare, then finished her sentence with a final admonishing push against his chest.

"Look," Andy started, unperturbed even as he rubbed a hand soothingly across his chest, "it's not my fault you can't-"

"Andy," Sharon warned, her tone dipping low, her glare scalding once again, but there was a sparkle of amusement in her look as well that Emily delighted in.

When Andy backed down, lifting his hands in surrender and begrudgingly saying, "Fine, fine," Emily laughed again.

Sharon remained rather unimpressed over both their antics and shook her head at them. "I don't exactly appreciate the two of you ganging up on me."

Emily giggled at her mother's begrudging tone and the way she narrowed her eyes at Andy in particular, but it was more for show than anything else, for she knew that how her children would get along with Andy had been a concern early on in her mother's relationship with him. The continued glint of amusement in her eyes told Emily she actually loved their getting along, even if it was at her expense.

Andy in turn, grinned, not overly concerned either, and told Emily, "I for one think it's fun."

"Me, too," she quickly agreed, even raising a hand, as if the 'me' in question wasn't clear enough.

"But," Andy sobered somewhat after Sharon's seemingly unimpressed eyeroll, "if it bothers you this much, I promise we will do our best not to make fun of you," he leaned in, pressing his lips to Sharon's cheek long enough for the fight to visibly leave her, then added cheekily, "if you're in the room."

Her mother's jaw actually dropped open, and when Andy went as far as winking at Emily, more than a little pleased for getting one over Sharon, a "Ha!" burst out of her as she dissolved into laughter.

But then Sharon shot Andy a challenging look, and he held it, steadfastly. Slowly, Emily's laughter abated as she took to observing the silent battle of wills now that she had once again been pushed outside that little bubble of theirs. For a few long moments, they glared at each other, before suddenly her mother's offended facade crumbled, that bubble burst, and she rolled her eyes in a way that all but screamed that she thought they were both lost causes.

Victorious, Andy pumped his fist in the air over a proud "Ha!" and Emily couldn't help but grin when her mom burst out laughing, unable to stop herself.

As they all slowly sobered, falling into a bit of a silence, Emily continued to observe the couple once more. The way Sharon failed to hide her amusement under the mask of apparent annoyance, the way Andy enjoyed teasing her and what was more, succeeded in teasing her. The way her gaze eventually softened, even as she once more shook her head at him, and he just smirked at her, unconcerned. Soon enough, there it was again, that impenetrable bubble where nobody but the two of them mattered, and she had to shake her own head at the scene, more in amusement though than annoyance.

Andy came out of the bubble first. He gave Emily a subtle, little look that slipped under her preoccupied mother's radar, and hiding another laugh behind the back of her hand, she silently agreed with the man.

'Yup,' she thought, 'caught again, Mom.'


	6. Chapter 6

It had only been a few days, but it had been building gradually, this feeling. A gentle fluttering in her belly at first, a dash of palpitations somewhere in her chest. Full blown butterflies appeared soon after, a slight but strangely comfortable tightening in her gut followed. Before she quite knew what to label that feeling as, an entirely new one appeared—an equally excited and nervous knot in her chest that quickened her heart rate and stole her breath. The knot threatened to suffocate her, send her down a spiral of doubt and regret, but in the end it untangled into all-encompassing warmth and that final feeling swallowed her whole.

In hindsight, the entire situation felt deliberate, a long time coming. Fact, however, was that it was a tentative, clumsy development, and despite all signs, entirely too sudden.

The fluttering started that fateful evening when she had said 'Fine,' and a goofy, disbelieving half-smile spread across his face. The feeling remained persistent in the immediate hours that followed in which she half-berated herself for acquiescing to his invitation and half-congratulated herself for finally daring to face the… thing… that lingered between them.

It abated somewhat late that night, when her thoughts were interrupted by a short buzz of her phone. The late hour should have alarmed her, put her into work mode, but it had been a text, not a phone call, and lately, only one person disturbed her in such a way so long after sunset.

'Hey, you up?' was what the text read, and she almost giggled, because she doubted she'd be falling asleep any time soon, if ever at this rate. Before she could reply, another message appeared. 'Reservation's at 7, I might have forgotten to mention that part.'

A smile spread across her features. She could almost picture him rubbing a hand over the back of his head, no doubt embarrassed about failing to mention such a crucial detail until now. That she hadn't come to think of it yet either, she profusely ignored, and instead quickly typed out, 'Pick me up at 6:30?'

She expected an instant response from him, and in fact the bubble indicating he was typing appeared almost immediately, but then it remained on screen for a good ten seconds, until it disappeared altogether. After a few moments, it reappeared again, this time staying stuck on her screen even longer, until it vanished once again. She frowned, confused. Half an hour should be more than enough to reach the restaurant in time. She knew, for obviously, she had looked it up online the moment she came home.

Running out of patience, she was about to second guess her proposed time in a text of her own, when he finally started typing again, and this time he hit 'send' too.

'It's a date then,' he said.

And just like that the typing bubbles suddenly made sense. There was nothing wrong with the time she proposed. He was just trying to double check, make sure she knew what she had agreed to, what tomorrow's dinner truly was, and she had to admit, he had a clever way of going about it, even if she could see right through him.

She found his insecurity rather endearing, and a smile spread across her face as she texted him back. She wasn't even aware of the way she coyly bit into her lower lip as she did so, excited and suddenly more confident than she had felt all evening. 'It's a date, Andy.'

She laughed out loud when he instantly replied, no doubt more confident himself now, 'Good, because I plan on going the whole nine yards.'

He would later confess to her about lying in bed that evening wide awake, his mind running a mile a minute, berating himself for the clumsy manner in which he had asked her out. He would confess how he had been so utterly stunned by her quick answer (he had braced himself for a gentle refusal), that it wasn't until then that he realized they had discussed no more than vague details. In fact, the more times he had gone over their conversation in the murder room, the less certain he had been that she even understood that this was supposed to be an 'honest to God date'. He would confess how he had chickened out by sending those texts. How, while he had been ready to face possible rejection earlier that evening, now he couldn't bear the mere thought of her coming to her senses and saying no. So instead of calling and going over the details, maybe even doing so in person, he had taken the cowardly, roundabout route of clarifying things, and mustered up the courage for only a few texts.

She would later confess that very few things, if any, had ever thrown her quite as much as the word 'romantic' back then. Then they would laugh about and make fun of their silliness.

Palpitations appeared the day of the actual date, warranted an extra blood pressure check perhaps an hour prior to Andy picking her up that evening. The thought crossed her mind to ask him to share his meds with her when he arrived, and even as she laughed at her twisted sense of humor, she berated herself for entertaining such ridiculous thoughts.

Her son had made himself scarce, whether on purpose or by chance, he would never tell, but she was thoroughly grateful for it. He didn't need to see his mother walking around the condo laughing to herself at strange intervals with no apparent cause. She was glad he wasn't there to witness her turning into a nervous wreck over something as silly as a date.

Only the word 'date' carried weight this time. A whole lot more weight than it had ever carried thirty plus years ago. She wasn't going out with a random guy she had a crush on. If she was perfectly honest with herself (and at the time she really hadn't been), whatever there was between them had long ago surpassed the definition of a mere crush or infatuation. For all intent and purpose, Andy had become one of her closest, if not best friends, and giving this a go put on the line everything they had worked up to and become in the past several years. This date was a lot of things. Silly was not one of them.

So that feeling of her heart wanting to thump out of her chest… she believed it to be more than warranted.

However, there was excitement, too. They were two adult, mature people, and surely they could go about this in a way that was becoming of them. Certainly, (she had groaned out loud as this thought popped into her head) the two could set up a framework within which to navigate this new direction their friendship was trying to take.

When, right on the dot, her doorbell rang, she half-expected her heart to jump out of her throat and start bouncing wildly around her condo. Smoothing out the dress she'd donned, and putting a calming hand above her chest (which did very little to settle the frantic beating underneath), she took a breath and went for the door. By the time she opened it (she did not check the peephole), the ever present butterflies in her belly became rampant, and if possible they kicked it up a notch at the sight of him.

"Andy," she greeted breathlessly, and flushed furiously when she took note of her voice, but he merely smiled, flashed her his lopsided grin and produced a bouquet of flowers.

"Hey," he greeted in a nonchalant way that completely threw her. How was he not a nervous wreck like she was? "These are for you."

She smiled back, and accepted the flowers. The few split seconds their hands touched, as the flowers switched owners, however, she found that his skin was clammy. The discovery widened her smile, and surprisingly settled down her raging heartbeat and the crazy butterflies. He wasn't as cool as he made himself out to be. They were on equal footing after all.

With little talk, she found the flowers a home, and accepted his offered arm as he led her down to his car. It was a comfortable few minutes, lighthearted even as he randomly admitted to just how very nervous, but equally excited he was about the evening.

Once they were ensconced in his car, Sharon thought the evening wasn't any more unusual than their outings before.

She relaxed into her seat and let Andy's usual chitchat fill their drive. The routine of it all filled her with an odd sense of comfort. It was just her and Andy going out to dinner again. It was just Andy grumbling at some 'idiot' in traffic again. It was just her rolling her eyes at his short temper. The easygoing conversation and the simple familiarity of it all almost made her forget they were on their first official date together.

Almost.

Because there was one difference.

Andy had always been a chatty guy, sometimes even too much of one for his own good. She had had to glare at him or elbow him to reign it in on countless occasions, but tonight, he seemed to be talking at warp speed. He wasn't fumbling for words the way he sometimes would when his nerves got the better of him, but she decided he was trying very hard to keep the conversation going tonight.

As she mulled that over, absent-mindedly contributing to what was increasingly starting to be a one sided conversation, she realized he was trying too hard.

She looked at him, her expression a mixture of amusement and fondness. Whether on purpose or not, he had somehow managed to calm her nerves while his remained wild and untamed. She should feel bad for not even trying to return the favor, but all she could do right then was suppress her laughter over his nervous, chatterbox self.

Did he worry she might change her mind if he allowed silence to fill their car ride? Or did he just need to do something to keep himself in check? Did he think she would feel uncomfortable if he allowed the evening to deviate from its usual format? But then again, wasn't that the whole point? Haven't they finally put their cards on the table in order to take their friendship to a new level? And didn't he also so boldly proclaim last night that he would be going the whole nine yards?

She wasn't able to find answers to any of those questions, because she suddenly felt Andy tentatively touching her arm, and she realized they had arrived at their destination. It was her turn to feel jittery again, flustered even. She had completely tuned him out for a few minutes there, and what was more, he had obviously caught her staring at him.

The soft, concerned tone in which he asked, "You okay?" did very little to prevent heat from rising to her cheeks. The feel of his hand against her arm only made matters worse because the warmth emanating from it fueled that heat creeping up her skin, and yet part of her hoped he'd not move it even an inch. That the look on his face matched the concern in his voice only added guilt into the mix, too.

It wasn't a conscious decision on her part to pose a question in lieu of an answer. She certainly never decided to pose this question of all possible questions swirling around her mind the past couple of days, but the words came out of her nonetheless. She couldn't even find it in her to be embarrassed when her voice sounded smaller than it ever did even in his company.

"Why did you finally ask me out, Andy?" It wasn't as if dating had come out of the blue entirely. She wasn't completely obtuse. But she needed to know, "Why now?"

She expected him to be caught off guard, or perhaps he was, but hid it well. She expected him to scramble for words, but to her utter surprise, he gave her a gentle smile, before rubbing a thumb soothingly over the spot where he still held onto her arm and dropping his eyes to the point of contact.

He spoke quietly, but didn't seem hesitant despite not meeting her eyes. "Because you keep saying we're just friends, but then you look at me like that," she was clueless as to what 'like that' meant, but he lifted his eyes to hers then and the softness she found there caught the breath in her throat, making it impossible for her to even try to make sense of it, "and I'm not sure anymore." He shrugged a single shoulder at her in that way that she had come to consider to be all Andy, stroked his thumb along her arm again, then added, "I don't think that's all we are anymore. I don't think you do either, and I think we're too old to keep waiting on," he looked around the car incredulously, "I don't even know what to finally find out for sure."

She finally took another breath, and couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips. He had been so patient. This hotheaded Lieutenant of hers had been so patient, waiting for the right moment that at her pace might never have come, and it wasn't a wonder that he had finally stopped waiting. It was a wonder it had taken this long for him to run out of patience. She sighed again, still unable to find a response worthy of his answer.

"Like that," he interrupted her musings, pointing a finger at her. "When you look at me like that," he clarified.

He was smiling at her as he did so, that lopsided smile of his that she had become so fond of, that privately she considered to be hers alone, and suddenly the nervous energy within her morphed back into excitement, and that was all it took for her to know exactly what to do, how to respond.

She placed her hand over his, squeezed and tugged on it hoping to pull him closer. Only it seemed to have the opposite effect, for he pulled back slightly, surprised, but then she mumbled an urgent sounding, "Andy," and even though his brow lifted in shock or something similar, he seemed to finally understand.

So she closed her eyes and tilted her head up to reach him, and he leaned down. For a moment, he again seemed to hesitate, allowing only their noses to touch and their breaths to mingle when they were close enough. His very smell invaded her senses though, giving her that final push. She reached a hand out to his cheek, and finally closed the remaining distance.

At first, their lips met briefly, a feather light touch, only long enough for her to gasp at the welcome, electrifying contact, but then they met again, and again, the kisses lasting longer, becoming more demanding. Finally, he let go of her arm, and before she could even start missing the connection, his hand found her face. He slipped his fingers into her hair, just below her ear. His thumb brushed gently along her cheek, and instinctively she pressed her lips harder into his.

It was as if all the pent up excitement and anxiety of the last couple of days, no, weeks, finally burst forth, and they poured all its released energy into this one, passionate kiss. The what ifs of the previous night vanished from Sharon's mind as if they had never even been there. He felt so good, so perfect, so soft against her lips, she didn't ever want him to stop kissing her. The knot in her chest, or what little was left of it, finally unraveled completely and all that remained in its place was the warm, burning but more than just pleasant feel of him. The hand in her hair alone shot the most delicious of tingles down her very spine, and she found herself wondering what it would feel like if he lowered it, ran it down the slope of her neck, shoulder, led his lips down the same path...

That was a sobering thought, however. That she was most definitely not prepared to explore just yet. She could use a dose of oxygen, too, really, so finally, she eased out of the kiss, finding his forehead a comfortable place against which to rest her own and catch her breath.

"Are you sure now?" she managed to ask on a slow intake of air.

She felt, rather than saw him smile, for in an irrational worry that this wonderful spell might be broken, her eyes remained closed.

"Are you?" he asked back.

She opened her eyes at that, and couldn't resist giving him one more brief kiss before pulling back. She missed the hand on her cheek even before he reluctantly took it away. When she met his gaze, she saw concern there, more patience, too, for he would wait for her, she knew, if she weren't sure. If she still worried, if she still hesitated. Precisely that was what made her smile at him encouragingly, nod and say, "Yes, Andy, I'm sure."

He grinned immediately. "Good," he said, leaning forward to steal another kiss from her, "because I'm sure as hell over here."

She laughed. "How about that date then?" she asked, clasping his hand and looking at it, marvelling at how very familiar the feel of it already seemed.

"Oh," he let out somewhat perplexed, causing her to laugh again.

"Did I throw you off your game?" she teased, then smiled slyly when he dropped his eyes to the fingers she ran along the inside of his wrist.

"And then some," he admitted giving her a wide-eyed look. "I was saving this part," he pecked her lips again, and she chuckled when he did, loving the ease with which he was already kissing her, "for the end, you know."

"Hmm," she started in a deliberately low timbre as she kissed his cheek, then leaned close to his ear, "if the date goes well, who knows, there might be a repeat performance."

She had no idea where her flirty, confident self was coming from—it had been so long since anyone inspired that side of her, since she felt comfortable enough to show it that part of her resigned itself to it laying dormant forever—but then he swallowed, clearly more than a little excited at the prospect, and her few remaining insecurities vanished completely. They made it through this step, and in her humble opinion, they made it through rather spectacularly. Surely they could make it through the ones that followed, even if they went about them in a somewhat backward order.

He moved back, retrieved his hand from out of her grasp and reached for his door handle. He didn't even prepare her for the abrupt disconnection, but she promptly burst into giggles when he got out of the car and muttered, "Just friends my ass."

She was still laughing by the time he reached her side and opened the door for her. When he offered her a hand to climb out, he was grinning at her and asked rather seriously, "Ready for our first date?"

She accepted his hand, and flashed him a bright smile when he tangled their fingers together. "And many more, Andy."

He stood up straighter, a sense of pride in his step, when she punctuated her statement by briefly leaning her temple against his arm.

She giggled again at his reaction, giddy, finding him utterly adorable. When he closed the car door and took the liberty of tucking her into his side, she sighed with contentment. As novel as the closeness was, it also immediately felt exactly right. The tumultuous emotions she had been wrestling with the past days finally settled down. As he quietly pointed them toward the restaurant, a warm, fuzzy feeling appeared, one that at the same time seemed to settle both in her gut as well as her chest while also seeming to envelop her whole. Wherever it was, she marvelled at it, and let it wash over her without a single doubtful thought.

When after a good ten steps away from his car Andy mumbled a definitive, "I cannot wait, Sharon," she wrapped her own arm tightly around his waist and privately already began planning their next date.


End file.
